


All in the Evening Air

by DoreyG



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: (And also certain shiny things), Community: kink_bingo, Electrical wands, Electricity, M/M, Steve likes Tony, Tony is only a mad scientist on certain days, Tony likes shiny things, chest attachments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-24
Updated: 2012-07-24
Packaged: 2017-11-10 15:52:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s when they’re finally getting somewhere, him lowering Tony down to the bed and Tony moaning encouragingly all the way, that it happens. A brief brush across the reactor, a sudden shock that immediately has him jumping back and clutching his hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All in the Evening Air

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the electricity square on my Kink_Bingo card. Yet another pairing that I've wanted to write properly forever, but never quite managed to get around to. Some descriptions of the (very vague) science involved may be a little bit handwavy.

“Ouch!”

It’s when they’re finally getting somewhere, him lowering Tony down to the bed and Tony moaning encouragingly all the way, that it happens. A brief brush across the reactor, a sudden shock that immediately has him jumping back and clutching his hand.

“Steve?” Tony, to his credit, immediately shoots up after him – cups his face and stares with _wide_ eyes, “are you alright? Did I hurt you? Do you want to go down to medical? Do you _need_ to go down to medical? Because I’m totally fine with going down to medical, you know. Our current state of nudity might be a bit hard, no pun intended, to explain, but-”

“Tony,” he tries to interrupt, rather touched by the amount of flailing concern.

“-I’ve had to explain worse situations, including that time involving Thor and Loki the megalomaniacal god and apparent icepop, so it’ll be fine. _Great_. _No_ worries… Well, apart from the entirely obvious and justified ones. Are you _alright_ -?”

“ _Tony_ ,” he actually interrupts, _incredibly_ touched by the amount of flailing concern, and swiftly drags the man to his chest, “ _yes_ , I’m good.”

There’s a long pause before Tony finally answers, faintly muffled into his chest, “good?”

“ _Great_ ,” he just keeps soothing, rubbing the man’s back _slowly_ to try and prevent elbows in any still unfortunately tender areas, “I got a shock, that’s _all_. It only surprised me.”

Tony seems to contemplate the concept of surprise for a long few moments, he keeps rubbing just in case “…Where?”

“My hand,” he explains calmly, releasing the man just enough to bring it up between them (hey, he’s always preferred visual aid – he figures that some people must feel the same), “see? Not even a mark. It really was the _smallest_ thing.”

…Tony just keeps staring at him, looking the faintest bit confused, “huh.”

“Tony?”

Contemplative, even, “ _Huh_.”

…It’s almost worrying, really (Except it’s Tony, except he’s not entirely sure if that actually makes it _much_ worse, except he’s pretty sure that that _does_ actually make it much worse in a rather unfortunate way), “um, are _you_ alright?”

Tony’s answering blank expression does not help matters. At all. In _any_ way, “pardon?”

“It came from your… Chest, after all,” known to man – his wide, faintly clouded eyes may be the polar _opposite_ of any kind of helpful, actually, “I haven’t hurt _you_ , have I? Because I’m still not entirely sure how the heart thing works, I’m afraid, and I really wouldn’t want to have made it worse in any way and I could easily call Bruce to have a quick look at it if you really wanted and-“

“ _Steve_ ” …The polar opposite, until his fond smile somehow manages to calm everything down again, “I _knew_ you switched off after barely five minutes.”

“…I didn’t mean to,” he manages slowly, sitting back a little further just to see Tony’s face, “are you-?”

“Of _course_ you didn’t mean to. You just couldn’t help it: like you can’t help accidentally breaking every single phone you come across, and looking adorably freaked out in most cinemas,” Tony just keeps smiling, wriggles a little until he can reach out and calmly grab his shoulders, “I’m _fine_ too, darling, just a little… _Fascinated_.”

He blinks a little at that, has to turn it over in his mind a few times before he has even the _slightest_ chance of getting it “…Fascinated?”

“I’ve never shocked anybody before… Well, at least not in _that_ sense,” Tony winks, actually starts to beam in a way that is most _definitely_ worrying, “how did it feel?”

…He blinks again, a little more, “is this really the time for experiments?”

“It depends on the type of experiment,” Tony just shrugs easily, somehow manages to make it look charming instead of dubiously offensive and an awful lot like a five year old, “how did it feel, _Steve_?”

He-

…He really has to learn how to resist all variations of Tony’s pleading tone. It _can’t_ be healthy in any way, “I- I’m not really that sure, I’m afraid. It was sort of tickly-? No, prickly. A light sort of prickle all over my hand.”

“A painful one?”

“I’ve already said,” he sighs soothingly, reaching up his hand to rest carefully over Tony’s, “it didn’t really hurt at all. It was more the shock, than anything.”

“Sure-?”

“ _Yes_.”

“…Great, then. _Wonderful_ , then,” And Tony beams _again_ , wriggles in his grip with a certain amount of _glee_ that may or may not be doing its best to remind him of a five year old yet again, “and other words of the general description. How long did it last?”

And it really is a good thing that, by now, he actually _can’t_ get the slightest bit annoyed when that glee is around. It’d probably be a bit like kicking a puppy – a small, wriggly one that delighted in chewing up shoes and barking in as many places as possible, “you know that I’m not a mathematician, Tony-“

“You’re a soldier, though.”

“…A few seconds, barely any time at all.”

Tony nods slowly at that, _still_ resembling a puppy in a faintly disturbing way (he’s practically grown a tail, a very active tail that’ll probably never stop wagging until doomsday), “could you have taken it for longer?”

“Maybe?” He can only sigh, not at _all_ basking in the face of it, “probably, yes.”

“Great,” Tony’s ever growing _beam_ is reward enough for his restraint – better than any certificate, or plaque, or great big trophy barely capable of fitting into a car, “did you like it?”

…Even if it is confusing.

_Extremely_ confusing, “Tony?”

Tony simply keeps beaming at him, tilts his head just slightly, even slides a steady hand down to his thigh like _that’s_ supposed to transfer any sort of understanding, “did you like it?”

“I…” He can only trail off, again in the face of it. Frown for a long few moments as Tony just keeps beaming and tilting his head and apparently _caressing_ his thigh in a way that is really quite distracting and keeping to his earlier theme of being completely and utterly unhelpful, “haven’t really given it that much thought, I’m afraid.”

Tony’s head tilts even further, his fingers keep stroking.

“But…”

_But_.

It wasn’t actually an awful sensation, all things considered. A bit shocking, _yes_ , but hardly _bad_ \- it’d just set all his hairs on end, prickled over his skin and tensed his muscles into that old fighting instinct that was so very familiar (And _arousing_. Since he’s slowly getting used to the fact that such human desires _are_ understandable after a battle and maybe should be indulged on an occasional basis.)

“…Yes?”

And Tony’s beam swiftly morphs into that particular smirk that always, _always_ gets him – no matter where they may be, no matter who they may be with, “wanna try something new?”

It’s so captivating that he hesitates for only a second, most of that time spent staring silently and reminding himself that he _can_ actually have that mouth, before slowly repeating himself “… _Yes_.”

And Tony-

…Tony laughs, pushes him gently back and _flops_ off the bed. Sprawling over the ground for a few minutes in an undignified tumble before forcing himself upright and half-staggering, half-shuffling over to the door at the highest speed that he’s ever seen him move without the suit on.

“Um,” he still says. For he may be from the forties, but his idea of ‘new’ _still_ doesn’t involve his partner leaving halfway through.

“Give me a minute!”

…Or large amounts of crashing, for that matter. Or the occasional swear word. Or even, and he’s aware that he _may_ be being a bit conservative here, a loud cry of joy followed by an almighty _smash_ that’s probably audible all the way up (or down, he’s still not entirely sure if that either) in Asgard.

He hesitates for another, longer, moment.

Slowly clambers out of bed, erection already _long_ wilted, and starts towards the door – hand already out, body already entirely prepared for Tony having somehow triggered the collapse of the entire tower, “Tony-?”

And the door shoots open again.

And Tony staggers _triumphantly_ back in, clutching an odd thing that looks like a wand in his hand and wearing an expression of such overwhelming pride that he can almost forgive the potential structural collapse of all surrounding buildings, “got it!”

He appreciates Tony’s expression for a long few moments.

“…What is it?”

“What _is_ it?” Before it fades to offended, of course. And then mildly annoyed. And then right back to gleeful within record time (because Tony has _always_ been fond of showing off, it’s actually one of his most endearing traits when you get to know him), “something new, something brilliantly new, something _amazingly_ new – not even Pepper knows about this, baby!”

There’s a moment of dubious frowning – he considers it sensible, for Pepper is one of those wonderful people who knows about absolutely _everything_ , “because it could potentially destroy the world…?”

“No!” Tony seems offended at the very _thought_ \- though not that offended, though not at _all_ offended when he does actually start thinking “…Well, probably not. _Well_ , not the world in general. D’you want to see what it does?”

He stares for a long moment, wonders if he should give in to the urge to be faintly impressed “…Alright.”

And Tony grins, and Tony _beams_ , and Tony tugs a wire out of the bottom of the wand thing and lifts that wire up to his chest and… “Ta da!”

He stares again. He does a lot of staring around Tony, he’s starting to wonder if he should reconsider his life choices and what exactly led him to this point (after the millennium, in a bed at the top of an obscenely tall glass tower, watching his boyfriend proudly gesture to something coming out of his body), “it plugs into your _chest_?”

“ _No_ ,” Tony thinks for another moment, he _wishes_ that he’d stop doing that “…Okay, _yes_. But that’s not the _only_ thing it does.”

“Really?”

“…Do I have permission?”

He hesitates for a long moment, still thoroughly reconsidering his life choices and the numerous things that led him to this point, before he slowly nods – extends a faintly timid hand at Tony’s beckoning gesture.

“Ouch!”

“Alright?”

“Yeah, just…” He stares at his hand for another long moment, _still_ reconsidering despite Tony bouncing nervously before him and his flesh still prickling and that thing in Tony’s hand somehow feeling _exactly_ like the generator in his chest, “another shock. How did you do that?”

“It channels energy from the generator,” a good thing that Tony is apparently, _always_ , eager to explain – with a suddenly _happy_ bounce and a resurgence of that beam so bright that it probably disrupts all those satellites apparently rotating above, “turns it into proper electricity: not enough to kill, or maim or severely injure or anything, but enough to give a mildly pleasant buzz. Much like what you got from before.”

He nods slowly over that, decides to suspend the reconsidering for the briefest moment because he already has _enough_ to consider anyway, “why…?”

“As fun as it sounds I _can’t_ actually rub my chest all over you, Steve,” Tony says, only a touch pityingly which means that he’s been _working_ on it, “it’d take too much time, and concentration, and _bending_ for you may be absolutely gorgeous but that’s _because_ you have a lot of unfortunately knobbly parts that are very hard to go over and-“

“Okay,” he sighs, only blushing slightly.

“…Okay?”

“Yes.”

There’s a brief pause. He uses it to get his blush back under control and wonder _why_ exactly it’s happening.

“…Were you saying okay to confirm that, yes, you are rather wonderfully knobbly or okay to say that you’re perfectly alright with this being used on you or okay just to shut me up or okay as a command to Clint to drop down from the ceiling and tranquilize me or something or _okay_ -“

“Tony,” he really has been saying the man’s name an awful lot today.

“-As a order for the _government_ , don’t look dubious it’s happened before, to crash in through the window-“

And, as much as he _loves_ Tony’s name, he really can’t stand saying it once more.

“-And _Mmmph_!”

…Tony seems to enjoy the changed tactics, at least, gives up his plan of making faintly insulted noises within five seconds and instead settles into a _long_ kiss. A very long one: full of hands buried in hair and arms wrapped around necks and faint rocking as he slowly presses the man back into the pillows even with something strange and hard and surprisingly not Tony gently bumping against his knee-

Oh. _Right_.

He draws back, with some effort. Gently strokes Tony’s cheek and manages a slightly breathless smile, “okay.”

“Okay,” Tony repeats dreamily in response, staring up at him like he’s better than sugar and incomprehensible electronics all rolled into one “… _Okay_! Great, brilliant, marvellous, other such words of that description. Let’s get this show on the _road_ \- lie back on the bed with all due speed, please.”

He obeys – barely repressing a smile, Tony’s kisses _always_ manage to steal that from him, as he rolls until Tony is on the top and he’s pliantly on the bottom.

“Excellent!” Yet another thing to be approved of, apparently – with Tony sitting back on his chest, and beaming, and slowly fiddling with the settings on his wand thing, and beaming brightly, and bouncing yet again as the wand thing starts _buzzing_ , and _beaming brightly_ , “start with your hand again, yep?”

“Yes,” he nods anyway, with a perfectly willing smile.

The first touch of the wand to the back of his hand is still a shock, just like last time, but one that he’s slightly more prepared for. He awkwardly twitches his fingers against the bedspread, but soon relaxes into it just a little – appreciates the odd tingle flowing over his skin and leaving a buzz in its wake.

Tony watches him for a long moment before ever so slowly moving it up his arm, checking back with him every single inch of the way. He’s pleasantly surprised to find that the faint tingle travels, up and up and deeper and deeper until his fingers are happily clutching in the sheets again.

…He may let out a brief moan, just through his teeth.

But Tony hears it, and Tony acknowledges it, and Tony _smiles_ in that completely distracting way yet again. The move along his collarbone is a little faster as a result. He chokes, just softly, as it rests in the centre for a few moments – but it soon moves on and now both his hands are fisting, ruffling the not at all carefully made sheets in a way that he _will_ feel guilty about afterwards.

Not that he cares right now – as Tony, _properly_ smiling, moves on to the outside of his second arm. Swipes the wand confidently down across his skin, listens to his actual groan with a grin so big that it could probably be seen from space yet again.

The man lingers over the palm for a long moment, a _cruel_ moment, before moving swiftly back up the inside – making sure to press against every bit of flesh along the way.

He shifts his hips a little as Tony teasingly traces over his inner elbow, actually _bucks_ them and cries out when he swiftly circumnavigates his armpit and ends up lingering over the collarbone again. He barely manages to wait for one tortuous second, two, _three_ …

_Ah_!

Before Tony moves again, at another pleading cry and buck: slowly starts tracing down his chest like he wants to savour every inch possible. He comes to the right nipple first, a little nub that he’s never really thought about all that much… Something which _completely_ changes when Tony shifts wickedly and presses his wand _down_. Suddenly his flesh is tickling, prickling, _aching_ in the best possible way – he may actually have burns tomorrow, but he won’t even _care_ and it’ll be _brilliant_ and wonderful and amazing and so very _good_ -

Until Tony chuckles, and tilts his head slowly up, and _moves away_ like it’s the simplest thing in the world. And then it gets a bit less good, a lot less good, an _incredible_ amount less good.

…Up to the point where the wand reaches the left nipple, and then the world tilts roughly on its side yet again. He’s pretty sure that his hands _fist_ , his hips _thrust_ , his whine is so _loud_ that Tony answers it with his own brainless little huff above – but, and yet another thing to feel guilty about later, he _really_ doesn’t _care_. Not with his skin rising up in gooseflesh, not with the feeling of electricity pressed right next to his heart.

Tony lingers there for a few, blessed, seconds more. And then teasingly shrugs his shoulders and moves down yet again – briefly lifting the wand from his skin before pressing it right back against his stomach, making his muscles clench and his breath come up short and his whole world narrow down to that single ever-moving point.

A circle, _two_ circles he’s pretty sure, is traced neatly around his belly button before the prickling finally stops – before Tony slowly draws back with mildly worried eyes and gives him a very slow look over “…I’m not quite sure about putting this on your cock.”

He pants a little, feels the wand so close to his skin and yet _so_ far.

“I mean, you _need_ that. And I _need_ that. And I’m pretty sure that the world _needs_ Captain America’s cock for grand purposes of patriotism or whatever-“

“Don’t care,” he eventually manages to whimper out, arching his whole body just to feel it a little bit closer, “hips. Thighs. Knees. _Go_.”

…Well, _that_ was coherent.

But apparently inspiring, as Tony _finally_ lets out a faintly charmed chuckle and moves _lower_ : bypassing the fully hard thing between his legs entirely and instead following his suggestion. Tracing the wand torturously over the line of his hip, listening to his little almost-sobs with an unholy amount of glee.

He lingers there for just a minute before continuing to obey and moving it slowly down over his outer thigh. The only possible response to such a cruel maneuver, the prickle travelling _right_ between his legs and making him somehow harder still, is an actual dry sob. A helplessly hard little thing that chokes its way up through his chest and ever so desperately out of his throat.

But Tony, despite _everything_ , takes the entirely obvious hint and moves lower _still_. Twisting his wrist until the wand bumps over the inside of his knee, rubbing the sensitive flesh there with soft care, slowly starting to press harder and harder and _harder_ until his vision turns white and an actual sob chokes out of his throat and his entire body is shaking ever so hard and he’s actually ripped the sheets and-

And-

_And_ -

He comes in a senseless rush, his world completely white and his body possibly hovering above the bed. He briefly registers Tony’s faintly shocked chuckle in his ear, but that’s literally the only thing he can cling to – the rest of the world seems simply soupy and vague and indistinct and not all that worthy of bothering with at all, really.

Aw, yet another thing he’ll feel guilty about as soon as he’s done with shoving his brain back in between his ears.

…Aw.

When he’s finally capable of it he forces open his eyes again, determinedly focuses until he can latch on to the smugly smirking Tony again and draw him down into an ever so sweet kiss – tongues moving slowly, Tony laughing softly, him only wincing _briefly_ as his over-sensitised cock brushes against the hard line of Tony’s stomach.

“Mm,” Tony is the first one to reluctantly draw back this time, he doesn’t resent him, “still don’t want to go down to medical, then?”

…He smiles softly, so fondly that he could probably burst, gently flips them again and leans in for another ever so slow kiss with the blessed wand bouncing limply between them, “don’t be silly, Tony, I couldn’t _possibly_ reach from all the way down there.”

And he slides his hand between them as the man _groans_.


End file.
